


like that (and i'll repay you)

by discountghost



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Dark Fantasy, Deaths Not in Main Pairing, Demons, Gore, M/M, Minor Character Death, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discountghost/pseuds/discountghost
Summary: Something is wrong with San.Or: Yeosang thinks something is possessing his boyfriend. He tries to get it out, with some bloody consequences.
Relationships: Choi San/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50
Collections: All Hallows ATEEZ Exchange





	like that (and i'll repay you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jungcockstae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungcockstae/gifts).



Wrong.

He wasn’t sure what, but it felt  _ wrong. _ He’d been staring at San for the better part of twenty minutes with that thought in mind and the other hadn’t caught on to it. He blinked, and then San  _ was _ looking at him. Eyes that reminded him of a fox bore into him before they narrowed.

“What? Something on my face?” San smirked, the dimple on the right side of his face popping out.

“Just a whole lot of pretty.”

San’s face scrunched up at that, in the cute way that Yeosang was so used to. It was familiar, but it still felt wrong and he hadn’t been able to shake this feeling for so long — he didn’t think he could keep up the charade. San probably couldn’t, either. His face fell after a second and he rolled over, into Yeosang’s side on the bed. The two stared up at old rock posters that Yeosang had stuck all over his room in the 70s to show off to his good Christian friends. San considered them relics of the past. He’d known about Yeosang since their first date. A date that had been pretty nice. Up until the part where Mingi’s hellhounds got loose and he had to play wrangler. San seemed hooked on him after that.

He wondered, absently as he stroked the other’s hair and murmured that nothing was wrong, it wasn’t the sense of danger that made San stick around. He hoped it wasn’t. He pressed a kiss to the top of San’s head, the other groaning about how gross he was with sage-mouth. It only spurred him on to kiss other parts of the other’s face, retching noises filling the room until they were silenced with Yeosang’s lips over his. It solved nothing, and he could still taste the  _ wrong _ in the back of his mouth when the other licked into it. It was stronger then, even.

“We gotta talk about San.”

Wooyoung looked up at him, wide-eyed. Like he’d wanted to say the same thing. His mouth, though, was occupied with a greasy sandwich at their usual spot. The silver-haired witch continued chewing, making hand motions as if to speed himself up. Or convey that he was very willing to have this particular conversation. The two of them had hit it off fine when they first met. San was — well, San had a way with people that Yeosang sometimes wondered if he wasn’t some sorta incubus. Or siren; that had been another thought when he’d heard him sing in the car for the first time. People loved him. It was hard for them not to; he was  _ charming. _ Wooyoung and San had made great friends on their first meeting and sometimes people made the mistake of thinking the two of  _ them _ were dating. San was the quickest to correct them. 

He licked his lips, cast the thought out of his mind. The one thing this meant was that Wooyoung must have noticed it, too. The wrong.

The other witch finally swallowed, sets down the rest of his sandwich as he draped his arm over the back of the crack linoleum of the seat. The owner would certainly have kicked his ass for it if he wasn’t occupied with scolding the goblin cooking staff he employed. He should know better than to think that they wouldn’t try to swipe some of the cash from the register. It sparkled; they’d want it. It was, unfortunately, in their nature to want to obtain shining things. He’d witnessed that firsthand.

“He’s been acting weird, lately.” Wooyoung leaned in a little. He had a flair for the dramatic; took his time with how he gave out information. That was the problem with dealing with a broker between the less magically inclined and those that thrived on it. He licked the top row of his teeth, back of his pink tongue pushing his lips apart in the process. “Like, weirder than usual. I would say he got into some of Yunho’s good shit, but it’s.” The halfling blinked rapidly, made a gesture that mimicked his head exploding. “Different.”

“He can be  _ weird _ weird, even by our standards.” Yeosang frowned. 

It didn’t feel right to talk about San like this. Or without him being present. There were few times when Yeosang did speak about him, but that had been before the two of them got together at the behest of Hongjoong so he could get some rest before his finals. Two years ago. At the thought of over seven hundred days with San in a romantic capacity, Yeosang could feel his cheeks heat. Silver tinting that dusted his cheeks. 

“Ew, I hope you’re not thinking about the kinky shit you two get up to.”

“I’m  _ not. _ ”

Wooyoung gave him one of his crooked grins, lifted a hand to weakly toy with the spoon in his coffee. The utensil barely twitched. The witchling’s grin turned into a grimace. “I don’t...wanna say it’s nothing. San usually handles — well, everything — on his own. You know that. Maybe...maybe he’s trying to work something out?”

“I know he does. I just.” Yeosang’s fingers curled up at the table, nails scratched at the surface. They caught at the edge of metal siding. “I’m worried it’s something he can’t handle. Or, that. Maybe. Maybe it’s not  _ San. _ ”

“If it’s not San, then who is it?”

Yeosang gave him a pointed look.

“Oh. I doubt it’s that. San’s head over heels in love with you.”

“Love fades; I would know. I took a semester on love potions.”

Wooyoung balked. “There’s a course for that?” Then, he sat up a little straighter. “Wait, are you, like, implying you dosed San with a love potion?”

“What? No!” His voice might have gone too high. Other patrons stopped to look at the pair, equal gazes of annoyance and curiosity clear. He leaned into the table, close. “I would never. I just thought the class was interesting and, aside from that, it’s what witches used to specialize in way back when.”

“You mean the European witches.”

“Technically, most. They’re just the most talked about.”

“Uh huh.”

Yeosang scrubbed a hand down his face, sighed. “Can we get back to what I was talking about?”

“Sangie, it’s literally impossible for San  _ not _ to be in love with you. And if he were, he would tell me.”

His stomach churned as he let that sink in. To be honest, he might have preferred this over all possibilities that had gone through his mind. Since it had hit him that something was  _ wrong. _ But he couldn’t allow himself to worry about what wasn’t happening with San.

“Whatever he’s dealing with, just give him space.” Wooyoung shrugged, tried moving his utensils around again. They clattered against the plates and soon there was a shrill “ _ What did I say about magic, Wooyoung?” _

Yeosang, in hindsight, realized that this probably wasn’t giving San space. The other witch had cancelled plans for the second time in two weeks — unlike him, but even more so unlike him when he didn’t try to make new ones. He tried not to think of him sorely missing his boyfriend, and more of it from an objective stance that maybe he was going through something. San was clever. He would figure out whatever problem he had and Yeosang would be there to smother him in praise.

But that was only if there  _ was _ something bothering him.

And the only way to be sure of that was to tail him. A bad idea, maybe. But hindsight was twenty-twenty and he was more than a little concerned about the love of his life  _ now. _ So, yes, he would give “space,” but the tracking spell placed on him wasn’t far off from being not enough space. Yeosang would argue that it wasn’t even a  _ tracking _ spell. A spell, yes, but more like one for observation. His worry wouldn’t let him leave the other alone, for whatever this was. He licked his lips, raised his hands up over the bird in front of him.

It was no different from the crow that sat perched on the telephone lines outside a convenience store. Out of the way, in the middle of relatively nowhere. It’d followed San out there after a trek through the woods. The witch’s backpack was stuffed full of roots and sprouts. Shoved some dirt in there for good measure, too. He must have been going to get something to snack on. The usual bounce in San’s step was still there, still made his hair follow suit where it rested at the nape of his neck. The sleeves of his shirt were still rolled up. The expanse of arm he did show, corded muscle and pale skin, was coated with earth. He didn’t seem all that bothered as his boots tracked mud into the store.

The doorbell chimed as he pushed open the door. The worker inside stuffed a stick of gum into their mouth and watched as he passed before they returned their attention to the magazine on the counter. He tromped through the aisles with ease. Yeosang felt his consciousness shift, vision narrowing. He blinked and it was with eight eyes this time. A little black spider, snug behind the standard mirrors of the convenience store. Unnoticed, he watched as San swung his keys around. The long chain had been a gift. They jingled and clinked together as he snatched what he wanted off the shelves. Dropped them into his bag. It hung off the front of him, open. 

He rocked back in his webs to see more of the other. San did strange things. San had an oddity about him that made it so that he would never be able to really  _ blend in. _ Yeosang had accepted that fact much the same way he’d accepted that he loved the other witch. 

But he wasn’t quite sure pickles and peanut butter was acceptable snack food. 

The other didn’t wait to get to the counter. One-handedly opened the jar of pickles and peanut butter. He was dipping pickles in peanut butter just as he walked to the register. The cashier didn’t look too pleased. The magazine was closed with more force than several pages of paper needed to be. The man was slightly taller than San, with just a touch more weight. Hair cropped short; a buzzcut could be a good look on some people.

Yeosang wanted to think that this was nothing. He was ready to leave the long limbs of the spider behind. Until the lights flickered. Did a short blink like someone flipped the light switches one time too many. The crackle of electricity reminded him more of an outdoor insect killer. San stepped forward, set the jars down.  They clink on the counter, just within reach of the cashier. But not close enough that it was right in front of him. He had to reach a bit for them. San had always been quick. In any game they had ever played, the other had little trouble besting him if it involved some sort of speed. Now was no different. Yeosang might have said that the cashier had stood a chance, but he'd be lying. He sucked in a breath as the cashier drew his last. Blood sprayed out over the counter as the man reached for the geyser of his throat. Flesh parted neatly by a single stroke of a blade. The edge of it was serrated, the hilt slightly tilted. He wondered if it was an old blade that the other sported.

Yeosang watched as San stood there. Just stood. Watched the cashier bleed out without any hint of emotion. None that Yeosang could see through the spider. The other witch let his hands rest in the growing puddle of crimson before he dragged them up and over the neck of the cashier. Wrapped bloody fingers around a slightly chubby neck. He was fortunate that there were more mirrors in the store. But not so fortunate to be able to look away.

What he could see, what he watched, was San squeeze until his thumbs dipped into the slit he'd created in the cashier's throat. Deep into flesh until it dug down to bone and he had enough purchase. Yeosang's stomach rolled as San kept pushing. Pushed until he wasn't sure what San was pushing  _ for. _ Until he heard the pop resonate through the empty convenience store. With muscles and meat clumsily pushed aside, the head slipped away from the body. Not so much rolled as it did drop down to the counter.

He was probably throwing up. He couldn't disengage from the spell just yet, even if he wanted to. He had to see this through. He had to watch as San -- or maybe this wasn't San anymore, maybe this had  _ never been _ San -- moved around the counter to do...something. He pushed down racks of candy, a little row of gum. He pocketed one of those, even. Left bloody fingerprints all over the place. Almost like he wanted to be sure that someone knew he was here, that he had done it. Yeosang's heart picked up, kicked into overdrive as the other turned on his heels.

The inventory of what was available to the other wasn't something that Yeosang had paid attention to. In fact, Yeosang hadn't really paid attention to the layout of the place. Auto equipment, some assorted things for gardens. Those lined the back walls. The rest were assorted items that had included food.

He realized, maybe too late, that this must have been planned. That San, potentially not San, had thought farther ahead than Yeosang had considered. He dragged his fingers over dust-coated shelving as he surveyed what was there. The witch watching him had a sickening thought that only seemed to manifest into reality. San licked his lips, pulled down a pair of shears. They clicked together menacingly when he pulled the handles apart and pressed them together.

Yeosang watched, with bile clawing at his throat and a boiling in his blood as San set about cutting parts of the body off. He used a bucket from the backroom to drop the pieces in, but let the blood drip into his bag. The soil there drank it up without delay. It was not far from being a vacuum with how it sucked up the redness. It didn't take away the fingerprints. No, those remained. Stains to let others know of what had happened.

The bucket -- buckets; it had taken a few to get the body into -- slopped around noisily as he walked. San didn't spare the cameras or any of the other parts of the mess he made another glanced before he pushed open the door with his hip and waltzed out into the night.

Yeosang gasped as he released his hold of the spider. One that looked just like it crumbled into dust in front of him, spent from how long he'd been in it. But he couldn't let San go, not with what he'd already seen. He could continue the spell. He had to. His hair clung to the nape of his neck with sweat and his body quivered with the force of having held a singular spell so long. Maybe he was getting old. His fingers scratched at wood flooring. Not old; weak.

His breath shuddered with his frame as he let it loose, scrambled to get the spell started up again. He could hardly stand, trembled with the little bit of movement he could muster. By the time he did have the spell going again, his fingers felt like they would fall off. He let more blood from his palm drip down over the bird, cemented his place in its mind until there was no more of the creature left.

The bird's wings flapped as Yeosang slid into the body, adjusted to its new host. Cocked its head to the side to see where San might have gone off to. The night was dark but he had little problems seeing San. He moved like a lighted spectre in the night, whistling a tune that would have ordinarily made Yeosang feel at peace. Now, though, he felt nothing more than a cold dread wash over him.

The buckets clinked and clanked together as San walked. The direction was familiar, more so than Yeosang expected. Perhaps...was San coming home? The thought made him sick. Then it made his heart race and soon the bird was in a tizzy. San stopped walking, turned his head up to the telephone wires. The light of the moon and the stars above weren't bright enough to show his face. As the bird calmed, San looked away and started back on his walking.

He took a winding path. Long, jagged path. He took with ease and dexterity and Yeosang wondered how many times he'd done this before. How many people he'd cut up and put into buckets. When San reached his destination, he donned a smile. That much he could see. The whites of his teeth peeking out between his lips as he clopped up the steps. Yeosang knew the way those steps creaked. The aching metal that he feared wouldn't be able to carry the weight of a fly let alone a fully grown hellhound. Mingi opened the door before San could even knock and the bay of the hounds at the scent of a visitor was loud. Deafening.

Yeosang fluffed his feathers as he perched on the tree across from the hound wrangler's house. He'd known the man for well over a decade. Watched him raise the hounds he had today. He was sure the mother was somewhere in the back, resting weary bones after years and years of furiously chasing down delinquent demon debts. And now it had a demon feeding her pups the evidence of its crimes.

Because there was no way that this was San. This  _ couldn't _ be San. He'd never admit that it was San, and even if it was, there had to be an explanation. A reason for why the man he knew to be so sweet and caring, could so easily feed a body to the hounds as he did then. Stooped down to give them pats and scratch at the bits of skeletal parts that peeked out. Poked at exposed innards the way they seemed to like as they stuck their heads into the buckets and greedily downed all that was left of the poor cashier.

Yeosang felt the familiar stirrings of disgust as San's dimples popped into view. He laughed as Mingi spoke excitedly, chatted with him for another moment. The two of them parted and San picked the buckets back up, turned on his heels. Then looked directly at the bird where Yeosang watched with his head cocked to the side.

"You feeling better?" San sounded concerned, even over the phone. But Yeosang couldn't let the slight pang of regret hit him too hard. Not as he glanced over at Wooyoung.

He nodded, then remembered the other wouldn't be able to see. "Yeah." He sniffed, winced because it might sound like he was still 'sick'. "Yeah. I'm fine. I miss you." It hurt, so bad.

It hurt to think that whatever the thing inside him was, had been riding his boyfriend's body like an express line to get its kicks. That it had been playing Yeosang for who knows how long. Maybe even before their relationship had started. The jokes about a danger kink didn't feel so much like jokes now.

"I miss you, too." His voice was so tender, so sweet. His chest ached as he listened to San.

"I know."

A beat passed. Yeosang didn't know what else to say. Couldn't think of anything. The plan was to get San to his place, and while that usually didn't take much...he didn't  _ want _ it. He feared it more than anything. Wooyoung, even with the defenses that they had, was still vulnerable. This was... _ something. _ A demon, maybe. It could have been any number of things. And it would be in his home, with a friend he had vowed to look after.

They'd pushed the furniture aside, drawn the sigils and runes that they needed. Bowls filled with viscous liquids and parts of various animals. He might have felt bad for the rabbits if he wasn't more concerned about what had to be done.

He licked his lips, looked down. Shame flooded him as the words left his mouth. "I  _ missed you. _ " Wooyoung had the sense to turn around.

This wouldn't feel wrong, usually. He'd have no problems saying any number of things over the phone to San with Wooyoung just in earshot.

"Oh?"

"I missed...feeling you. Your hands on me." He swallowed.

There was that high pitched giggle he was used to, fell in love with. "You're really looking for a reason to have me over there, huh?"

"I mean it. I miss you, San." That, that was the truth.

"I'll be over soon, Sangie. Love you."

He hesitated. "I love you, too." Wooyoung turned, locked eyes with him. His eyes were rimmed red, and Yeosang's own vision was blurring. He cut the line before San could hear the sob that ripped through him.

Thinking about San walking through his door didn't make it any easier. If anything, it made it so much worse. To know that he would have to look the other in the face and continue to lie to him. To pretend that everything was okay while some monster wore the love of his life's skin. It had been a bit of good fortune that San hadn't noticed him earlier in the bird. He'd waited about two days for the other to maybe show signs that he knew, but when none came, the plan was formed. A plan based solely on the possibility that the creature that was San wanted to hold some semblance of a cover if it suspected someone was onto it. Calling San had been part of it.

The witch found himself now in the middle of his living room, with the furniture pushed back into place and the sealing circle concealed by a shaggy rug from the 70s. He would have happily recalled betting a leprechaun at poker for it if he wasn't trying to keep his insides in check. He drew the black robe around him tighter, pulled at the hairs at the nape of his neck. This was a stupid plan. But it was the only plan. Wooyoung lingered in the kitchen, mixed a potion that Yeosang had put on to boil as some sort of distraction. The other almost looked like he knew what he was doing. A couple more courses, and he'd be, well, okay at it. There wasn't a lot of hope for halfling witches these days. He fiddled some more with the robe. Tried not to make the holes in his jeans bigger than they already were. San loved these jeans. Mostly because he'd figured out ways to wedge his fingers into them when they got close.

A knock at the door stopped the memories, and almost his heart. Something clattered in the kitchen and Wooyoung's quiet swears rose up. Another knock and Yeosang's heart started up again. Mind worked enough to remember that he had to answer the door. He padded across the carpet like he was walking on hot coals. It gave Wooyoung enough time to shut the closet door he stuffed himself into as Yeosang opened the front door.

San waited on the other side, patiently holding a bottle of wine in one hand. A plain black button-up tucked neatly into a pair of dark pants that cinched his waist; Yeosang swallowed. Right. He'd gotten him over here with expectations of a passionate reunion after avoiding him for so long.

"Hey." It helped that he was practically breathless with the panic he felt creeping into him.

"Hey." San grinned, tipped his head forward. A beat passed. "Can I come in?"

Wordlessly, Yeosang stepped out of the way. A good enough invitation for the other, San waltzed inside the way he always did. The same space between his steps, angle of his legs. Nothing new, nothing missing to be part of his familiar gait. Yeosang swallowed as he shut the door, clicked the lock.

"So..." San drawled the word out, nearly tapdanced his way over the rug, but was still just shy of it. He set the wine down on the side table, slid his hands into the pocket of his pants. He was pretty. So pretty. San used to call Yeosang pretty - but San would always be the prettiest in his mind.

"So." Yeosang turned back around, back pressed to the door. He just had to get him over the rug. "I missed you."

"You said that already, silly."

Yeosang shrugged, glanced over at the closet Wooyoung waited in. His brows rose as he walked closer to San, opened his arms a bit for an embrace. He was welcomed easily. The space between San's arms, the place he could fit his face into; they were still the same. He was a warm, familiar body and it made Yeosang ache. An ache so hard he almost cried again. But he willed down the tears, turned it into a more forceful hug.

Locking lips with San had been a welcome pastime before. Something he looked forward to when the other teetered dangerously close to him. He could smell the other's cologne, almost filled his nostrils enough to mask the heavy stench of blood. That, that he would sob at. He pulled away from San, put him at arm's length. Then shoved him. It was the last push he needed to get onto the rug, but it was a lot more than that.

The other stumbled back, landed on his butt. Yeosang was quick to follow, hands anywhere he could reach. San chuckled under him, cut himself off on a moan as Yeosang shoved his hands away. He swallowed the sound with his lips over the other's. It  _ felt _ like San.  _ Tasted _ like San. But it wasn't San. His teeth dug roughly into the other's lip and San mewled beneath him. His head tipped back against the carpet. Yeosang watched as he bared his neck, eyes closed. He let the other rest there a moment before he was back on his feet.

"Yeosang?" San's eyes fluttered open, still a little hazy.

The witch didn't respond, looked instead to the closet door as it opened and Wooyoung stepped out. He could just barely make out the way that the witchling trembled. The pages of the grimoire in his hand shook. Gooseflesh rose up on Yeosang's arms as he looked back to San. The other remained dazed, confused. There was a certain satisfaction to pulling the literal rug out from beneath him as he tried to stand. He fell back again with a thud.

"Yeosang?" A touch more urgency this time. Much more. "What're you doing?"

"You're not okay, San. But we can fix this." Yeosang stooped down, cupped the other's face in both hands. His bottom lip trembled. He wanted to cry, and maybe seeing that was what made the little bit of San left in San cry.

The other's weight sagged down into Yeosang's touch, shoulders shaking with his cries. "What's happening?"

"I'll fix this. I promise." Pressed one last kiss to the other's forehead before he drew back. "Wooyoung, the chairs."

The two work together fast. It was practiced. They'd run through this in so many different ways, and yet it still felt like it wasn't real. Like this was nothing more than a horrible nightmare. He choked on a sob he hadn't realized he'd been holding as they got the last bit of furniture out the way. He checked the circle to make sure nothing had been messed up in the process of covering and uncovering it. With the seals all still in place, Wooyoung brought out the rest of the ritual.

San was quiet. So quiet where he sat in the middle of the seal. His eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates. He trembled like a lamb awaiting the slaughter, and he wondered if the people that the creature inside San looked much the same when he killed them. Or when they realized that they wouldn't see tomorrow. It made it bittersweet when San flinched as Yeosang opened up the grimoire.

The first thing they needed to do was discern. To know. They couldn't get whatever it was out of him if they weren't sure of what it was to begin with. Yeosang suspected demon because this read like one of the old school, traditional geezers. The millennial demons had a different approach to things. Less violence, more bargaining. Maybe so much that they muddied the waters of who was a demon and who was a skeevy businessperson.

He licked his lips. It was a good place to start. The best place to start. He drummed his fingers over the pages. He flipped to a page he never thought he'd have to look at again, not after that last semester of demonology with Eden. A formidable witch, if not for the fact that he was a demon himself.

Yeosang glanced up. San hadn't tried to stand since that first time with the rug. He remained there, chest heaving as he looked between Wooyoung and Yeosang. How hurt he must be. Wooyoung cleared his throat, drew Yeosang's attention to him. Right. Ritual. He looked back down to the pages of the tome in his hands. The Latin was easy on his tongue, gaze flicking up, as he tried it out.

San's brows furrowed, and it looked a little like he'd eaten something bad. His lips pressed together as he continued to look between the two witches. He wondered if the neighbors would notice when San started screaming. The sudden hitch of breath before he screamed. It was like he was being  _ gutted _ . Like his insides were being pulled out through his mouth. Yeosang's ears rang as the other threw his head back once more. The crack of his head against the wood flooring. He wanted to cry when the other seized up. Muscles clenching and unclenching as he curled up on the floor. He wanted to cry so bad. His words faltered as the other whimpered his name, choked on the words.

He was concerned that San might bite off his tongue, but as he looked up again -- the other was on his feet. Had risen up with little effort. He looked relaxed. His hands were back in his pockets, his stance too easy for someone that had just been convulsing on the floor.

"Hi, Sangie." Not San's voice. Not San's voice.  _ Not San's voice. _

Every inch of his skin crawled as the creature stood, watching. Waiting. Watching and waiting. It had the gall to cock its head to the side, watching as they fumbled over the rest of the ritual. Because it didn't seem to matter. Not anymore.

"You're not San."

The thing chuckled, and a dimple puckered into existence. "Astute observation. You've always been real smart, Sangie."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why does anyone do anything?" The creature shrugged.

Yeosang flinched as Wooyoung clung to him. His breath shuddered as he inhaled. "What are you?"

The creature, in San's body, walked around the sealing circle. Walked so close to the edge of it that for a second Yeosang feared he might be able to break free. It picked up on this, nostrils flaring as its eyes widened with glee. It might have even wiggled its shoulders with satisfaction. It giggled, for one.

"You did a bang-up job with the seal; don't worry about it too much. You are." The creature chuckled, inhaled deep before it let out a wistful sigh. "You are something else, my dear."

The voice that left San was not San. He had to remind himself of that, even if it sounded like him. It hit a timber just a touch too low for San. He'd tried it before; Yeosang knew what the end result had been, but it wasn't this. He blinked, eyes watering.

He tried again. "What are you?"

"You were right. Sort of." It shrugged, rolled its shoulders. "I  _ am _ a demon. Just - you were a little off on the specs." It held up a hand, pinched two fingers together to accentuate the little part. Being wrong didn't feel so good in the moment. "I'm a little more... _ refined.  _ Distinguished, if you will. San is actually quite fortunate to have been chosen by me. But." He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "He was sorta bred for this."

His brain was on fire. Set a flame in panic and confusion. A demon. He'd been right, but he'd been wrong.  _ A demon. _ Something big and powerful, too. Inside his Sannie. Holding the poor man hostage.

"What do you mean 'bred'?"

Another giggle. "Like you'd breed a dog to be the very best. Woof woof, Sannie is best in show." He cocked his head to the side. "Best in bed, the way you're all over him, too." A giggle turned into more laughter. "Watching you two is sweet. Kind of hot, in a weird way. Like watching insects mate."

"Shut up."

"Oh, don't be upset, sweetheart." The demon smiled, lips in a sinister smile. "I did enjoy being with you. Watching you and San. You two are. Oops - were. You two were like a supercharged bomb." It made a little gesture of something exploding with its hands. The veins of his hands had colored so much that they were black against his skin. Creeping further and further up to the rest of his body. "You were the whole reason this even worked. Even got to this place. I should thank you for feeding me so well."

His heart stopped. "What?"

"You fed me. All that power." The demon laughed again, leaned to the side as it craned its neck to get a good look at Wooyoung. The witchling shrunk back. "You radiate it, you know. But you were so generous with San, I don't even think you realized it. You even gave  _ me _ a taste not too long ago."

"Where's San? Why are you doing this to him?"

The demon groaned, rolled its eyes. San's eyes. "He's sleeping. Or, well, you kind of sent him into shock. He's not supposed to know about this. Otherwise, I'd have a rebellion on my hands and I worked too hard. His mother did a great job and it would be a real waste to make him know what his own insides taste like." There was a light in the other's eyes that was almost frantic, manic. "I mean, he might have gotten a little taste for the other white meat with me riding shotgun, but he doesn't really get that he does. Chicken and pork just don't taste the same to him." The demon shrugged, laughed again. Stepped up to the edge of the seal. "Maybe he should know now. It's only right."

"N-"

San sucked in a breath. Rocked back as his consciousness returned to him. The barrier of the seal kept him from falling over, forehead pressed against the nothingness that kept him at bay. His palms were flat against it as Yeosang could do nothing more than stare.

Wooyoung stirred behind him, fingers digging into Yeosang's shoulder. "What the fuck do we do?"

"Yeosang?" San's voice cracked around the last syllable of the witch's name. "Yeosang, what's happening to me?"

He could hardly keep it together himself. A quivering mass of panic and fear. What would happen if he told San? Would the demon make good on his threat? No; not a threat. A promise. If it was a demon of some unknown caliber, one of power, then it wouldn't say anything idly just because it could. It would do the things it said and he would only be able to watch. He trembled as he looked down at the barrier, aware of the eyes on him.

"Yeosang, let me out."

It was still San's voice, but there was an edge of a command to it that had the witch looking up again. The same panic he felt reflected back to him as San stared him down, pushed against the barrier. First tapped his fingers against it before he graduated to fidgety knocking on the open air that held him captive. "Let me out, please."

Knocking turned to a slow banging. "Please, please."

Slow turned to fast, almost angry pounding and Yeosang flinched with each impact of fist on magic. "Let me out! Please! Yeosang, let me out! I'm scared." That last phrase ended on a whimper as the other continued banging, but it slowed again. "Please."

This was a trick. Yeosang was sure of it. It would be exactly what the demon wanted and then they would be left to deal with the consequences. He knocked over one of the bowls, watch the liquid trickle down to the seal. San sighed, maybe with relief. Maybe it wasn't even San, but Yeosang couldn't look up to be sure. He didn't want to be sure. The paint lifted with an ease that was only magical. The witch closed his eyes, tears warm as they rolled down his face.

"Thank you."

One minute he was standing, the next he was on his back. The air had been pushed from his lungs with the force of being thrown. Wooyoung was still on his feet when Yeosang turned his head to look in his direction. The front of his jeans was stained with a dark liquid as he shook, stared San down.

Not San anymore. Maybe never again. The demon stepped over the lines of the seal with ease. San's eyes were too bright. A swirl of colors that landed on an eerie orange with too-wide pupils. They might have taken up the entirety of his eye, rimmed with that orange. San's tears had turned an angry red, like the innermost part of a flame, as they rolled down his face. They scarred the skin as they passed over. Flesh sizzled and it smelled faintly like meat roasting over a fire. Yeosang's stomach rolled.

"I knew you wouldn't hurt him."

"Why didn't it work?" Wooyoung's voice was a soft whisper. Yeosang almost didn't hear him. "Why didn't it stop him?"

"It might have worked if you'd known what I was." The demon winced at the thought. "I mean, you undershot with the power level." It raised a hand and the witchling flinched. All that did was make the demon chuckle as he continued with his gesticulated metaphor of a plane crash. "You should have shot for the sun, Icarus."

"Are you, like, the devil?"

The demon was looking at Yeosang, but pointing at Wooyoung. "I like him." It blinked, turned its attention back to Wooyoung. "No, I'm not the devil." It pinched the witchling's cheek, laughed again. So much laughter in a voice that was San's but not. "But I might as well be to your kind."

Yeosang struggled to sit up. His limbs felt heavy, like something was sitting on top of them. He might hazard to say it was a hellhound, an invisible weight that rested over him. But then he'd be struggling to breath, or hear some sign of them. This was just pure power holding him in place. The same power that kept Wooyoung from dropping. It held the witchling up like it was nothing, even if the man wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees.

"Stay away from him." The demon looked to Yeosang again.

It cocked its head to the side. "I'm just making conversation. I didn't think you were the possessive type like  _ that,  _ Sangie. That's  _ so _ not sexy."

"Don't hurt him."

"We're just talking; relax." The smile was slow to spread, too wide when it had reached its full width. "I already ate."

Yeosang's stomach rolled and if he weren't being held in place by the thoughts of the demon, he might have rolled over to vomit onto the floor. Eating for a demon meant a number of things, but one this old - people were on the menu. He could only think of the buckets of human body parts that he carried over to Mingi's. His gaze darted over to Wooyoung, eyes wide.

The demon held the witchling in place with his mind, though he had a hand dangerously near the other's throat. Squished up his cheeks in a way that was almost reminiscent of a grandmother doting on a grandchild.

"You should be more worried about your boy, Sannie." The demon pouted, used San's face to make the expression slightly more devastating. "You should have been worried that Wooyoungie was going to take him away. They're so close. It's  _ crazy." _ The demon laughed, glanced down at the witchling again before looking to Yeosang. "You know. I." It licked its lips, tried to fight off a wave of laughter. "The looks on their faces." It teared up again, more searing liquid to roll down San's face and cook flesh as it went. "I had a ball with killing the first people that thought that San and Wooyoung were dating. Replacing them wasn't easy since I had to cover my tracks." The demon shrugged. "But, gotta do what you gotta do."

"Just let him go. Please."

"Why would  _ I _ do  _ that?" _ The demon turned its gaze back to the witchling, used its free hand to stroke the other's head. "The little rat already called for help."

It felt like an eternity passed as San wrapped his hands around Wooyoung's throat. An eternity with the promise to protect the witchling playing in the background of Yeosang's mind. The demon pushed, laid the other out flat on the floor while it crushed Wooyoung's windpipes. The witchling's faced turned red first, legs kicking as he thrashed under the creature. But San was an immovable force. The demon's expression was blank as the witchling's face began to turn purple, eyes flooded with blood as blood vessels popped. Wooyoung whimpered as his legs slowed. Lame thumps of his heels against the wood while Yeosang screamed for the demon to stop.

He'd never been much of a believer in miracles, but the timing of Seonghwa's arrival might as well have been one. The witch entered with style, the door thudding down against the floor as the hinges dripped where they'd been melted off. Seonghwa's gaze landed on the scene; a demon throttling Wooyoung and Yeosang helpless. He sort of understood what the demon had meant by Yeosang feeding San. It explained why he'd been so weak with the tracking spell. He'd been giving so much of himself to San that he hadn't even noticed it. God, he fucking hated demons.

The hold on him was disrupted as Seonghwa muttered a few words of a spell, thrust his hands forward. Wooyoung had been right to call for him. Yeosang wasn't as versed in combat spells as he should have been. But the blast threw the demon off of Wooyoung and into the kitchen. Into an arsenal of weapons that the demon could use.

It stood again, but Seonghwa was faster. Another spell and San's head cracked against the counter. Yeosang didn't have time to cry out, pulled to his feet and shoved back towards the open door.

"Go!" Seonghwa hoisted Wooyoung up, the other's feet dragging.

The trio moved down the hall, but all Yeosang could think of was the blood that had started sliding down San's neck when they were leaving. It wouldn't be the end of the demon, but what did it mean for the body? For San? He drew in a breath as the elevator dinged and the doors shut behind them. They'd passed dozens of faces of concerned neighbors. San must have been loud. The demon might have even broken the sigils for the soundproofing.

"Why would you do something so stupid?" Seonghwa spat the words out as he paced the elevator. Wooyoung's eyes fluttered open for a moment, before they closed again. "Why would you even think to  _ try _ something like that?"

"I didn't think!" The words stung to hear. "I wasn't thinking about anything but saving San." He slid down to the floor, drew his legs up to his knees. The doors opened to the lobby. They must have looked like a sight. "I didn't think at all."

Seonghwa might as well have slapped him with the way he'd looked at Yeosang. "Clearly."

They got Wooyoung to his feet, staved off the curious receptionist. The less people that knew what was happening, the better. But that still slowed them down and when Yeosang glanced over his shoulder, there was San. Blood soaked his hair, made it cling to his neck. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up further and the knife in his hands caught the light, even with all the blood on it. The body in front of him jerked, eyes wide. When he stepped down, it was just enough force that the head caved in easily. Gray flesh sprayed out, blood pooling under it.

The demon slicked back its hair with the stinky remnants of its clearing of obstacles. Horrified screams cut short as it tipped its head to the side and more bodies dropped.

"Sangie, we can make up. I know we can." It spread its arms out like it was offering something. Presenting something, more like. "I just want to repay you for your hard work, is all."

Seonghwa pulled him towards a car, didn't spare any words on him. He watched as San stopped short as he was stopped by another barrier. It must have been Seonghw'as doing. He couldn't see any of the sigils from where he stood, but they had to be somewhere. It might have been something herbal. A simple, effective warding. But they couldn't be sure how long that one would hold him off.

"We can't drop Wooyoung off at a hospital. It'll just find him there, and kill him."

"Why does it want him dead?" His voice was so small and he was so tired. Exhausted. It weighed down on him as the adrenaline ran its course. He was left with fumes and a tangle of emotions he would need to address at some point.

Seonghwa shrugged. "Dunno. I do know that we should split up."

"What." He turned his head so fast his neck hurt. "What do you mean split up?"

"Temporarily." That doesn't make Yeosang feel any better. "We can rejoin once we get our heads around this. Or, I get my head around this." His grip was tight on the steering wheel. "It would be faster if you enlightened me, of course."

Yeosang's gaze dropped to the road. A stretch of asphalt he didn't recognize. This might have been a backwoods highway. Seonghwa was older, knew the place better.

"A demon is in San." Start simple, small. "I didn't. I didn't think to ask its name, but it." He sucked in a breath. "He said that San was...bred for him."

"Bred for him?" Seonghwa glanced at Yeosang, look incredulous as he turned back to the road. "I've never heard of a demon doing something like that."

"Yeah, he just." It was hard to think about. Wrapping his own heard around the truth of the matter was something  _ he _ still had to do. "He just told me that. But, I watched...San kill someone the other day. Slit the poor man's throat." Another shaky breath. "And then he fed the pieces to Mingi's hounds."

He jerked as the other let out a laugh. "You're not serious."

"I am."

"San?  _ San? _ Fed body parts to the hounds." He scoffed. "They're on a  _ diet. _ " Then, low. Maybe because he wasn't supposed to hear. "Clever bastard."

"I. I know." He swallowed, tipped his head back. "I know it sounds crazy, but you just walked in on us trying to perform an exorcism."

"Dantalion is really making you work, huh?"

"He is." Yeosang blinked, glanced over at Seonghwa. "What'd you say?"

"He's really making you work."

"You said. You said his name."

"Did I?" Seonghwa cocked his head to the side, but didn't take his eyes off the road. "Must have slipped."

"Wha-" The pounding in his head was enough that he thought it might split his skull open. His vision danced and he was seeing stars where there weren't supposed to be any. One sharp breath and then everything went black.

A cabin in the woods felt more like a horror movie. If he remembered right, it  _ was _ a horror movie and he was just living it. His mouth felt like it'd been swapped with cotton and his throat constricted like he'd swallowed a desert. He coughed, sputtered as he came to. Above him was a night sky, smoking drifting into it. The smell of ash and earth filled his nose. Everything felt heavy, but his head pounded the minute he tried to raise it.

"Oh, you're awake." Seonghwa's voice was the same pleasant timbre, rumbly with his delight. The edge of a purr on his words. "Oh, I wouldn't look that way-"

Too late. He stared Wooyoung in the face, glassy eyes meeting his own. Empty of life. The other's lips parted in a soundless scream. The handprints on his neck were vivid. Clear as day. This wasn't the first time in the night that he wanted to cry. He was supposed to protect Wooyoung. And now he was dead.

It was his fault.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, sweetheart." His tears ran fast at the familiar voice. Faster still when San smoothed down Yeosang's hair. The demon stood over him with Seonghwa at his side, peering down. "Sometimes, things don't work out the way we want. I just wanted to put him in a coma. I mean." He shrugged and a strand of hair slid out of place. "I could have, like, magicked it, but that wasn't as fun. I thought he could hold out." His sigh was nothing short of disappointed, a gentle shake to his head. "I overestimated him. Because he helped with the ritual."

Slowly, the weight was lifting from his limbs. His fingers twitched to life and the first thing he thought of doing was reaching out to wrap them around San's neck. To wring the life from the demon, but that wouldn't have the same effect as it had to Wooyoung.

"Why do this? Any of this?"

San, the demon, grinned. "I have big plans. I'm talking Tokyo Super Dome big." The frenzied look was back as he held a hand out toward Seonghwa. The other witch's gaze dropped down to the hand before he pulled something from his jacket. The covering of the notebook he handed over was leather, lined with teeth. Yeosang swallowed. "Plans so big, my status as the seventy-first will be reconsidered. I'm looking for a promotion." He let his chin rest in the palm of his head. "I want the power to give you exactly everything you want not to be disturbed."

Yeosang flinched away from him. Little by little, more feeling returned to him. He could barely drag himself away. San trailed him, hopped after him as he tried to move further away. "Why me?"

"I like you. Correction:  _ we _ like you. San and I." Dantalion tipped his head to the side. "San and I, we're like...conjoined twins. We're stuck with each other. That spell was never going to work." He drew in a breath, let it out in a huff of air. Smoke left his lips, and while he tried not to think of it, Yeosang swore he saw something like fingers poking at the edges of the other's mouth. "We were one and the same from the moment San was born. I was  _ reborn _ through him." The other frowned as he reconsidered his words. "Sorta."

"But - why do I need to be here? Why did Wooyoung have to-"

"Die?" San - Dantalion - shrugged. "Why does anyone have to die? Why does anyone get to live?"

"So, he dies and I get to live?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeosang, you're smarter than this." The demon stood, and Yeosang realized he hadn't been seeing things. Fingers that tapered into claws pushed at the sides of San's mouth. Practically ripped his jaw from the rest of his head for the arms to make their way out. "It's as simple as it sounds. As long as I like you, you live."

Yeosang's gaze darted over to Seonghwa, who stood off to the side in something of amazement. "And Seonghwa?"

"Oh, I like him. Not the same as you, though. He's just. He's useful, in his own way. He watched out for San when I wasn’t at 100%." San shrugged again. The fire behind him grew larger. The wood crackled as it burned. "But I like his utility. He's not so useful anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Seonghwa was too far. He wasn't close enough to hear any of the conversation. If Yeosang wanted to warn him, he wouldn't even have the chance.

"I mean: I don't need him anymore." San stepped closer. "I can get rid of him, and it'll just be me and you, and a burning world."

He jerked away. "What did Seonghwa get out of all this?" He raised his voice to call the other witch's attention.

It worked, and Seonghwa turned his way. Stepped a little closer as his gaze darted toward San. The other seemed to await permission to sleep, eyes imploring and wide. He looked almost innocent, like a small child before a parent.

"I got power. Years past my expiration date." The older shrugged, the snakeskin jacket suddenly holding a new meaning. "I was supposed to die at fifty-four, of a stroke." He punctuated it with a laugh. "Can you believe that? They wouldn't have known how to treat me."

"How...old are you, Seonghwa?"

"Old enough." San jumped in easy. "Older than he's supposed to be. You witches aren't exactly immortal. And it wasn't very popular to be one when Seonghwa was born. Life expectancy isn't something you new age witches would be too worried about, though. Especially not about being burned at the stake."

Yeosang swallowed, pushed himself back, only to be met with the barrier to further escape. When he turned his head, he found that it was a tree that kept him from going anywhere else.

"I could do the same for you. Keep you with me forever." San reached out again. "I could give you everything you ever wanted."

"I want San back."

Dantalion blinked, regarded him for a moment before his shoulders slumped. "Well, he's here-"

"Not good enough. I want him  _ here. _ "

"You're very bossy. No wonder he lets you manhandle him in bed."

His jaw clenched, fingers dug into the ground. "Not funny."

"I'm sorry." The demon held his hands up, backed up a little to give him space. "I'm sorry. No more digs at what you two do between the sheets. Or, well, technically, what the three of us do." The lack of response aside from a hard stare made the demon drop his smile. "Yes, I'll be civil."

"If you can make someone live longer, can't you bring someone back?"

San clicked his tongue. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"You've got a lot of why's coming out of you. How much money did you spend on that vowel?" The joke was followed with a snicker from the demon himself. "It's not part of the plan. Just like him dying wasn't part of it. But we make do with what we have. I don't have any use for him. Not anymore, anyway. He would have been a motivator for you to come to me, but that's a moot point now."

Yeosang hung his head, used the tree for support to get to his feet. "You were going to use him as a bargaining chip?"

"Something like that."

He seemed so disinterested. Unlike the San that Yeosang knew. The San that would have cried bloody tears over Yeosang. He would never get him back. He was sure of that much. He sniffed, tears starting up again.

"Oh, baby, don't cry." San's voice, but not his, comforted him. Or attempted to. But that only made it worse. "I said I could give you anything you want. If you really want Wooyoung alive, I can bring him back, but..."

Yeosang looked up. "But what?"

"But it might not  _ be _ Wooyoung. You know the whole Lazarus thing? Yeah, that shit doesn't work the same way with demons or humans doing the resurrecting."

"That's not fucking possible."

San shrugged. "I know, right? The big man upstairs? Unreal." The witch shoved the other away as he tried to get close. "Look, hey. What if. I got you anything  _ else _ you wanted?"

"Why do you care?"

"I like you." The words were forceful, the edge of annoyance audible. "I don't know how many times I have to say it, but I like you. San loves you. I don't want my host up and dying of a broken heart because you left him. Those are harder to mend than a cracked skull." He turned to look at Seonghwa who dropped his attention to the ground. "Thanks so much for that, by the way. There's still blood in my hair."

"You used it like hair gel." San's attention was on him again just as the words left his lips. The demon giggled. "There's blood all in your hair."

"I look good, though, don't I?" Goading. Yeosang wanted to shove a knife through his throat. "That would hurt you more than me."

"Stop reading my mind." A beat, then: "If you're reading my mind, why don't you just give me what I want?"

A soft  _ tsk _ left the other. "I'm an artist. That would be...clumsy. This is a sort of craft that comes with a certain pleasure when you get it right based off a guess. But it's even better when you go above and beyond a request. So. I want you to tell me, and I will fulfill it. Your wish is my command." Another shrug of his shoulders. There was the eager expression to please that Yeosang was so used to on San's face. Waiting to be praised.

"I want San back."

"That request won't be that easy."

"Wh-"

"Plans, Sangie. I'm trying to make moves that'll make it possible for us all to be together. Forever." He reached again for Yeosang and the witch went still. Let the demon take his hands into his own. "But I can make you a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"Like." Dantalion sighed. "A life for a life."

"Then, Wooyoung-"

The demon held up a hand. "Doesn't count, already dead."

"Then..." The only other living being around was Seonghwa. Who stood several feet away with his back turned. Likely to give them some sort of privacy. "But, you promised him-"

"I made him a deal. And he took it. I liked him as a bonus because he is surprisingly creative. Which makes him useful."

"But not anymore."

"See, I told you you were smart. Sometimes I want to kiss that gooey smart brain of yours." He shuddered at the thought. He figured that the demon would have no qualms with cutting open his skull and kissing the organ housed within. "The choice is yours. A life for a life. I let San out to play, like you want."

On one hand, the demon could be lying. He could try to pull something like he did with Seonghwa. But he wanted to see San so bad, even if for a little while. To be sure that the other was in there somewhere. That there might be hope of freeing him. And he could always choose himself. But what would be the point of that?

Yeosang stepped away before the hands coming out of San's mouth could cup his face. There was strength in his legs now and he could carry himself over to where Seonghwa was. The other smiled, blinked as he awaited whatever.

"Did you have a nice chat with him?"

"Why'd you do it?" Yeosang looked to where Wooyoung lay. "Why'd you let him kill Woo?"

"It had to happen." Not good enough. This didn't  _ have _ to happen at all. "People live and die, and Woo's fate was to die."

"So was yours. Of a stroke."

"Fate changes when you make it."

Yeosang lifted his gaze to meet the other's eyes. "I guess I'm changing yours, then."

He watched the change of expression. He watched the way Seonghwa regarded him before it set in and he looked sharply to the demon standing beyond them. Close. Close to the fire that raged. The wind howled in his ears, accompanied by the sound of his heart in his ears. It was a slow minute as the other rocked back. Leaned far back enough that his snakeskin jacket caught aflame. Then the older witch stumbled over himself, tipped too far to one side. He was so...flammable. The flames ate him up quickly. Melted his clothes and burned up his hair. Blackened his skin and cooked meat and muscle off the bone.

The smell of cooking flesh hit him hard. The screams lasted only a few short seconds before Yeosang blocked them out. A hand on his shoulder shook him from his trance.

"What a choice you've made."

A choice he wouldn't regret. His gaze moved to Wooyoung's body.

"I'm so proud of you."

He squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted this night to be over. This was one wish that could be fulfilled quickly; the sun's rays licked at his face through the trees. San turned him around to face him, face lit up with a smile that could rival the sun when Yeosang opened his eyes.

"Hey, Sangie."

Yeosang broke again. His body could hardly hold him up and he found himself using the other for support. He buried his face in the crook of the other's neck and squeezed tight. Like he was trying to keep the other rooted there. Maybe he was. It didn't stop the chill that crawled up his spine as the other put his lips to Yeosang's ear. "You chose so well."

"San?" Yeosang pulled back, slow. Regarded the other with wet eyes. The same smile. The same dimples. The same San he'd always known. "You're San, right?"

San grinned. "I've been here the whole time."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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